


The Ballad of Barbie

by kittytbh



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1930s, 1940s, F/M, Forest Sex, Making Out, farm life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittytbh/pseuds/kittytbh
Summary: Barbara is a spritely young woman that loves her mama, Ethel, and her Papa who works 24/7 in the factory in town. Her life consists of helping her mother deliver meals to the community on her bike and taking long strolls in the mossy forrest that surrounds her family cottage.She delivers a box of food to a residence one summer afternoon and comes face to face with an old classmate, Boone, and she's faced with his unbearable charm.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	The Ballad of Barbie

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my little bitches...... sorry this is not 1d related. I'm unfortunately not good at writing gay sex anymore, probably because I never had it :p. If you really want me to finish life and times of an alien... i can try
> 
> Anyway, this short story is inspired by [this image](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d3/83/5c/d3835cc52a48917500a4b891270e8563.jpg). I hope you enjoy :)

Barbara flicked her finger repeatedly into the river, chin resting on her knee as she zoned out on the water swiftly flowing over her long finger. She was taking some time for herself in the woods-- something she liked to do often. Probably more often than her mother Ethel would like. 

Ethel was a strong willed and good intentioned woman, no less than five foot and always stirring a pot; whether that be on the stove or in her gossip circle at the market. Her hair rarely met her shoulders as she always kept it tied back in a haphazard gray knot and an apron’s tie never left the nape of her neck. Her daughter was the spitting image. Kind of.

Barbara had Ethel's once pointed, beautiful eyebrows with curly locks to match as well as her wit and sometimes cunning charm. They both occupied a small wooden cottage on the very bottom of Missouri that Barbara’s parents had built from the ground up; it was almost falling apart from the ground up but it was home. Speaking of home, Barbara sighed and stood up from the mossy riverbed and plucked her sandals from the ground. It was time to face the music.

The sound of pots scraping the iron stove paired with the kettle whistle blaring out the window almost made Barbara turn around but her mother spotted her out the window. They locked eyes and Ethel raised her carving knife at Barbara.

“You!” Ethel yelled, waving the knife around.

Barbara whipped her head left and right, pretending to search for people in the elms. “Who, me?” Ethel narrowed her eyes and disappeared from the little box in the wall and appeared in the front door.

“I have been waiting for hours! I told George you would deliver his dinner  _ very _ soon. Please, take this box and deliver it to the fourth house down Carnation street.” Ethel shuffled behind the dining table and grabbed a box full of fresh cuts of meat and a variety of vegetables from their garden. Barbara pushed the shoulder of her cornflower blue blouse up and hiked the box up onto her shoulder. Her mother smiled warmly and lightly pinched her daughter's cheek as she passed. “If I were you I’d ride your bike, sun won't be up for much longer and you remember what happened last time”

Barbara cringed at memory of her tripping into a thorned bush while trying to lightly jog home late last spring; it was actually only dusk and she still managed to fall and bang herself up. The young lady sighed and backed out the door and over to her bicycle, “I’ll be back in less than an hour, mother, I love you.” Ethel waved out the window and just barely glanced up from the food she was chopping, clearly already going back to preparing another family’s dinner. The families never ordered full meals, just the components to make them. A lot of the women who would normally love to cook for their families had very little time to do so on account of the nearest buzzing city was a couple miles away and both parents tended to work. Barbara tossed the box of food into the carrying bin strapped to her bike handles. She tied a small knot in the side of her skirt to keep from getting it caught in the spokes and hopped on.

Fresh wet grass flooded the brunette's senses as she sped happily down the road, gaining speed just so she could kick her feet and still make good time. Carnation street approached and she slowed slightly as a tamed head of bright orange hair slipped into her periphery. She dared to fully glance in his direction and snapped her head forward once she got a good look. It was only George’s son whom everyone called Boone because it was easier than George Jr. She pursed her lips and pulled into the makeshift driveway outside the Boone residence. 

Boone and Barbara had known each other since they were children and had never gotten along very well. Barbara didn’t like being told what to do and Boone was a bossy child from the get go, almost to his detriment. She gave him a noncommittal smile when he noticed her hoisting the box on her hip. George Sr appeared in the doorway and opened his arms wide, “Barbie!” The man lumbered out the door and over to Barbara, denim overall hooks clinking together behind him. He enveloped her in a warm hug and she sunk into it for a moment, briefly squashing down the light pang of sadness when she suddenly wished to be hugging her father instead. She pulled back and gave him a bright smile, gently placing the box in his arms as he called for his wife and daughter.

A tall woman peeked her head out the door for a moment before fully striding into the yard, 4 year old on her hip. She looked exhausted but happy as the little one reached out to be held by George, eagerly letting her husband take hold of their daughter so she could climb him like a spider monkey. “Glad to see you here, Barbie, I thought George was going to eat the icebox if we had to wait any longer.” Barbara chuckled politely at Anne and explained that time had gotten away from her at the river. The mother smiled and gestured towards her son who had been pretending to paint the same piece of wood while trying to eavesdrop on their pleasantries. “Georgie, come here please and say hi to Barbie.” 

Boone looked up from his over-lacquered wood and pretended to be surprised he was called upon. He set his brush down and pulled the wiping cloth from his hip, walking over with a stride that was almost too casual for the setting. Barbara smiled awkwardly and gave a short, “hi, Boone”. He blinked at her and paused for a moment, “hi Barbie. How are you?” Instantly her face scrunched up in displeasure but she wiped it away quickly. She  _ hated _ when he called her that. That nickname wasn’t to be exclusively used with anyone, she didn’t care on that level, she just truly despised the tone of voice he often used when speaking to her and it carried on into what he called her.

“I’m fine,” she said with no emotion. “How’s the fix going?” She lightly gestured towards the pile of wood on the side of their house and turned to him again, a fake smile fixed on her face. He gave her a real smile and put his calloused hands on his hips, “it’s going really well! Ma’s chicken coup will be good as new by tomorrow and we can finally get the hens out of Pop’s garage.” George Sr groaned and motioned towards his baby blue garage, toddler clinging to him while he swung around.

“Just look at her, Barbie. You think she should have chickens in ‘er?” Barbara shook her head no and gave him a goofy smile at the theatrics. The youngest Boone, Rose, squealed while her father continued to spin in circles, causing the women to burst into laughter.

Anne hefted the box of food into her arms as their laughter quieted. Barbara flitted her eyes to the side and saw Boone already looking at her. She felt stuck in place once their eyes locked and she knew her silence was beginning to stretch too long. “Are you still interested in helping me with the hens this Friday, dear?” Barbara snapped out of their shared gaze and blinked at the willowy woman. 

“Oh! Oh, yes of course I’ll be here by 4:30. I remember what happened last time we collected after sunrise.” Anne nodded her head once with a smile and headed back into the house, husband and little girl in tow. Boone cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, seemingly swallowing his words. 

Barbara looked around and noticed the sun was just barely beginning to set. “Ok...um..I’m going to go now.” She stood still another moment before quickly walking back to her bike, throwing her leg over the side and blowing the stray hairs from her face. When she looked back up he was still watching her, head tilted just barely to the side and a small smirk on his face. She resisted the urge to let her face twist into a quizzical look and just began peddling away, not quite wanting to acknowledge the little zip she felt go up her spine when she caught a glimpse of his bottom in the blue Levi’s he wore that seemed just a tad bit tighter than before.


End file.
